


Waiting

by tuesday



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Romantic Soulmates, Soulmate-Identifying Marks, Soulmates, Temporary Character Death, secondary character: James "Rhodey" Rhodes, secondary character: Vision (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-23
Updated: 2019-03-23
Packaged: 2019-11-28 22:55:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18214769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tuesday/pseuds/tuesday
Summary: "You're fifteen," were the words skittering down Peter's arms in a messy scrawl.





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> AU in two ways: a) soulmates, b) CW is definitely when they first met (rejecting Peter as the kid at the expo in this particular fic) and that meeting goes a little differently as a result of point a.
> 
> Thanks to Areiton for looking this over!
> 
> This is a bit of a rehash of Homecoming and IW and somewhat of another of my soulmate AUs. I'm just going to keep writing the same story over and over again until I'm done with it, I guess. I may never be done with it. I have a thing about soulmates, and we all know it. Also, I want to do Five Days of Tuesday again this year, and this was the closest thing to done in my wip folder that wasn't for an exchange. I'd rather publish it than let it live there forever.
> 
> Tomorrow, we'll see if I manage to keep it up/finish another fic in time.
> 
> Content advisories in the end notes.

"You're fifteen," were the words skittering down Peter's arms in a messy scrawl. And yeah, sometimes the words were misleading, but the year Peter turned fifteen, every first conversation he had was fraught, tense with the thought, _What if this time—?_

It never was, and Peter distracted himself with school, with his friends, with band practice and science club and the decathlon team. And then Peter was extra distracted by being bitten by a radioactive spider, the death of his uncle, and trying to figure out his powers all while helping people.

But it was still there, that hope fading with every day, week, month passing where the first words out of another stranger's mouth weren't his.

Then Tony Stark was sitting in his living room, talking with Aunt May, and, well. There was a protocol with celebrities, even if your average person didn't bother beyond trying to introduce themselves by name. Peter was bowled over, but he remembered to give a string of numbers after his first, rambling, "Um, what—what are you doing—" even if he didn't expect it to go anywhere, because what were the odds?

Pretty damn good, actually, because Tony had gone pale. He said, "You're _fifteen_."

Peter honestly couldn't have said what the string of random digits he'd given had been, but apparently Tony's mark was able to remember it for the both of them.

"You—what?" Aunt May said, looking between the both of them. " _What_?"

Tony's expression bordered on panicked. "I can't—" He stood abruptly. His face had gone blank. "Right, I just. I'm sorry, but I need to go."

"You're leaving?" Peter asked. "When you—when I'm—"

"Are you saying my nephew is your soulmate?" May asked.

"He's fifteen!" Tony went for the door, but he turned, pointed a finger at Peter, and, looking only at Aunt May, said, "Also: your nephew is a costumed vigilante who goes by the name Spider-Man."

Peter felt all the blood drain from his face before it suddenly flooded back in a rush of heat.

Aunt May said, "What?"

Tony said, "Please don't let him get killed before he reaches adulthood. It's in your hands now."

"It's always been in my hands," said Aunt May, which, well. She was a great guardian, but Peter had been taking his life into his own hands the last six months. All the same, it wasn't like it had been that dangerous. He'd taken precautions! Sort of. "But what do you mean by costumed vigilante?"

"Nope, no time for family drama. I have a plane to catch and back-up plans to put into play, and you," Tony glanced at Peter and then looked quickly away again, "I am definitely not talking to you until you're at least eighteen and I've had the chance to consult a lawyer and/or priest."

Tony power walked out the door, leaving Peter with Aunt May, who was looking increasingly dangerous. "Peter, what did he mean by costumed vigilante?"

Peter couldn't quite concentrate on that right now. He said, voice flat, not sure how to feel (besides awed, disappointed, disbelieving, overwhelmed), "Tony Stark is my soulmate?"

—

While his soulmate was getting in a knock down drag out fight in Germany, Peter was super, super grounded.

—

Tony had said he wasn't coming back until Peter was at least eighteen—and Peter really hadn't been looking forward to having to wait until _college_ after spending his whole life thinking he'd get his happily ever after soon after his fifteenth birthday—but one day a few weeks later he came home to find Tony in his living room. He wasn't eating May's date loaf this time, and the atmosphere was a whole lot more awkward than the last time.

Peter suspected Tony wasn't actually here to whisk him away to get to know each other, a notion reinforced by the way Tony was very pointedly not looking at him.

"Welcome home," May said. "Put down your backpack and pull up a cushion." She patted the free spot on the couch to her left. Tony was seated to her right. "We need to talk."

"I don't actually need to be here for this, right? Right. I'll just—" Tony started to rise, only for May to grab his shoulder and push him back down before he made it more than a couple inches. "Or I can stay."

"Mr. Stark has made some very good points about unsupervised heroing with amateur equipment," May said.

Tony stared at the coffee table, where a brown paper bag rested. "In all fairness, the web formula is very impressive."

"He's also offered to provide training and professional equipment."

"Really? You mean we could—?"

Tony raised his hands, warding off Peter's enthusiasm like a physical blow. "Oh, no. We nothing, little Spiderling. I'm here as a delivery boy, nothing more."

Peter couldn't imagine Tony had ever played delivery boy, but he didn't know anything about Tony he hadn't read in a magazine article or on gossip sites. Maybe Tony got a kick out of doing the things he usually hired other people to take care of. Peter asked, "Then what, um, who is going to train me?"

"There's a whole compound of people who'll help you out with that. A little emptier than it used to be, but you'll be taken care of." Tony's eyes connected with Peter's for a split second, then skittered away again. "It's an upgrade, actually. Speaking of upgrades," Tony nodded at the paper bag, "take a look. Let me know how it fits."

Peter brightened. Not only was he getting professional superhero equipment, if he was reading this right, but he was going to get the chance to talk to Tony at least about that. It was a foot in the door.

Tony must have seen Peter's expression in his peripheral vision, because he said, "And by me, I mean your point of contact with the Avengers. This is the extent of my personal interference."

(It would not be the extent of his personal interference.)

"And on that note, I really do need to go. May I?" Tony lifted an eyebrow, and May smiled slightly as he stood. "Good luck."

"Thank you, Mr. Stark," Peter said.

Tony winced. He said, keeping his face trained on May, "I think you'll need it."

"Goodbye, Mr. Stark," May said firmly.

The door had barely closed behind him when Peter lurched for the paper bag. It was his turn to be drawn back by May's strong grip. She said, "Before you get distracted with your shiny new toys, we need to set some ground rules."

—

Every other weekend, Peter went to the Avengers Compound in Upstate New York to train under either a healing Colonel Rhodes, who treated him warmly, or Vision, who remained more detached. Both viewed him with some level of minor fascination at first that had nothing to do with his powers, though neither let it affect their work, and it faded soon enough.

Rhodes invited Peter to call him Rhodey and sometimes let bits slip about Tony. Vision was in charge of aerial acrobatics, because Rhodey wasn't capable of flying the suit again in his current condition, and unbent enough to sometimes make a game of it, catch and tag and letting Rhodey or the Compound AI judge them on complexity and style.

Peter liked them both a lot.

To his surprise, Vision was the one who brought it up. "You would think it would simplify things." He smiled down at his own arm. "It certainly helped them accept my personhood." The smile faded, and his expression was serious as his eyes bored through Peter. "But it doesn't make things easy." He put a hand on Peter's arm, just above the mark. "They will say that you're young, that there's time, but you're allowed to be upset. Own how you feel, Mr. Parker. They cannot take that from you."

Peter swallowed. "What about you?"

Vision's lips curved. His eyes were distant. "They can't take it from me, either."

Occasionally, Peter caught little signs that Tony was around. A half-drunk mug of coffee sitting on the counter in the communal kitchen. The glint of sunlight off of sunglasses in the distance as he swung around the Compound's outdoor training grounds before they disappeared when Peter moved closer. If he listened really, really hard and worked on filtering out extraneous noise, he could hear another person's heartbeat and breathing, Tony's voice as he said, "Dum-E, hand me that wrench. No, the other one. Not—that's a _screwdriver_. Are you getting worse at this? I think you're getting worse at this."

Peter was learning a lot and getting a lot of practice in. Rhodey wasn't going to take him on any Avengers business—he said, "You're fifteen," which was something of a theme with Peter, "and you don't have a Mind Stone exception"—but he did approve of Peter catching bike thieves and giving directions to lost tourists.

"Tony didn't get a start until he was in his thirties. At your age, he was still in school, building his first robots. There's no rush. Focus on getting familiar with your powers and getting to be a kid." Rhodey clapped Peter on the back. "Now get out there and show me some more of those fancy flips."

Peter thought about the robots thing when he was tempted to quit robotics lab. He stayed in. He tried to build some of his own. He told himself time and again, _It's just three years_. Some people had to wait decades. Peter would like to have some points of commonality to bridge that gap.

—

There was a whole thing with an arms dealer in Queens.

Rhodey said, "We'll take care of it."

Vision said, "If you have the energy to ask for updates, you have the energy to run the obstacle course again."

Tony said, several rooms away and with no idea Peter could hear him, "He's a kid. He should be doing kid things. What the hell is he doing getting mixed up in ATM robberies and arms deals?"

It didn't help to hear Rhodey say, "He really is your soulmate, huh?" and Tony's reply, "I think the universe made a mistake."

Probably Peter shouldn't have taken that as an impetus to take care of things himself. Definitely he should've called Rhodey or Vision once he got information about the ferry. On the plus side, Peter got to see Tony again, to talk with him face to face. On the minus side, he was incandescently angry.

"We really need to work on your listening comprehension skills," said Tony. "See, I thought that Rhodey told you to _stay out of this_."

Peter was grounded again, at home and at the Compound. Tony took the suit back—"Until you prove you have some semblance of judgment. Maybe that'll be forever, but you're certainly not getting it back anytime soon"—but worse was the look in his eyes. Peter didn't know if that was disappointment or contempt.

It was a disaster, basically.

—

Peter went with Liz to Homecoming. They were friends, she didn't have a date, and he needed to make up for Nationals somehow, even if she thought he was feeling guilty over going missing in DC, not for nearly getting her killed because he was trying to play hero and wasn't able to warn Ned about the energy stone in time.

Liz's dad was a supervillain.

"What do I do?" Peter asked Rhodey, on Ned's phone because his own was busy tracking a supervillain.

"Nothing. Enjoy your dance. We'll take care of it."

The thing was, Vision was in Europe for some reason, and while Rhodey was back on his feet, he wasn't back in his armor yet. According to google alerts, Tony was in Connecticut for some sort of conference. The last time Rhodey had said they'd take care of this, what they actually had done was send the FBI. Peter pictured FBI agents confronting the Vulture. No matter how he ran that scenario, it didn't turn out well.

"Okay," Peter said softly.

Everyone was already mad at him. He was already grounded until he was thirty. How much worse could it be?

—

Peter got a building dropped on him.

His evening wasn't over yet.

—

Tony showed up when Peter had just finished webbing Liz's dad into place. Peter had never gotten to see Tony really put the speed on—had only seen Iron Man in action in person the once—but one moment he was a little red and gold dot on the horizon and the next he was swooping down in front of Peter. Tony looked over at the Vulture and obviously dismissed him. He slowly surveilled the burning wreckage of the plane. When he turned to Peter, he stared, seeming impassive and immovable behind that faceplate, for a minute that felt like it lasted eons.

"Come on, Boy Wonder. Let's go talk somewhere a little more private."

 _I'm going to yell at you, but not in front of the supervillain,_ Peter translated.

Tony picked him up and flew them further up the beach. When he put Peter down, he took two steps back and stepped out of the armor. The look on his face was horrible, tight and pinched and drawn. His eyes kept scanning Peter's face, tracking the blood dripping down it. Peter was abruptly aware he was covered in blood, sand, and what concrete dust hadn't blown away while he was in the air.

Flatly, Tony said, "Do you have a death wish?"

Peter swallowed. He really wanted a mask to hide behind right about now, but his was currently buried under several tons of rebar and concrete. "No one else was close enough to stop him."

"Do you know what the worst case scenario of him taking that crate would have been?" Tony was shaking. "Thor lost a belt. That's it. Thor has dozens of belts. It's why he left one behind." Tony reached out, but he didn't touch Peter. "Do you know the worst case scenario for that fight? _Do you_?"

Peter flinched. Tony looked tired. His hands were trembling even more than the rest of him.

"You had better, because you damn near lived it. That plane could've hit the city. Dozens of innocent people could have died."

Peter looked down, so it took him by surprise when hands gripped him at his shoulders.

"And you. You could've died. Do you know what that would've done to me? To your friends? To your Aunt May? Maybe you don't care about me, but surely you care about one of them."

"You don't—" Peter's voice cracked. He knew Tony was making good points, but, "You don't even want me."

Tony looked away. "You're fifteen," the words on Peter's arm, the reason he gave for staying away, the hope Peter had for getting his happily ever after early and the crushing knowledge that that was why he wouldn't, "but you won't be fifteen forever."

What? "What?"

"I don't—" Tony rubbed a hand over his mouth. "I've been waiting for you for—I'm not going to say it. Don't make me say it." He grimaced. "Decades. I've been waiting for you for decades, for far longer than you've been alive. What makes you think I'm not willing to wait a little more, to let you have the childhood you deserve?" Tony turned to face Peter full on. His face was tense. His eyes were intense. There was a line carved deep between his eyebrows. "And you do. You deserve every good thing I can give you, and I'll give you every one of them you'll let me. And yeah, that includes time. That includes as much time as you need, even if," Tony's lips quirked up at the corners, rueful, "that's more time than you actually want."

Peter's knees were weak. He opened and closed his mouth. His voice was thin as he asked, "You want me?"

"Still not answering that question until you're at least eighteen." Tony tapped a finger against Peter's chest. "Do us both a favor and try to live that long."

Tony turned and walked away like he always did. This time, Peter got the sense that he wasn't so much trying to get away as waiting for Peter to catch up.

—

Peter did his best, but it wasn't good enough. He didn't live that long.

—

When Peter was resurrected, Tony was there. His first words were, "We're still waiting," but he pulled Peter into his arms and buried his face in the side of Peter's neck. He was trembling all over. Hesitantly, feeling untethered and unreal, Peter wrapped his arms around Tony's shoulders and cupped the back of Tony's head. His hair was surprisingly soft, no product in it. His beard was scratchy against Peter's neck.

"Never do that to me again," Tony demanded.

"No promises."

Tony barked a laugh like a sob. Eventually, Tony pushed back and wiped at his face. "Sorry, sorry, I just—"

Peter pulled him back in again. Tony's arms were the only place he felt solid and real right now. "Please." Peter's voice was a thread about to fray. "Don't let go."

They stood there for a long, long time.

—

On Peter's eighteenth birthday, Tony showed up with a couple large wrapped boxes, the contents of which were tailored perfectly to Peter, and the pretense that they were just getting to know each other.

"Is that a new suit?" Peter asked.

"Two new suits," Tony said. "Only one's superhero related."

"Is this a Pretty Woman moment?" Peter asked.

Tony pulled a face. "Well, I was going to take you somewhere fancy, but how about Burger King?"

"No take backs!"

"You're really determined to remind me you're only eighteen, aren't you?" Tony dropped his head into his hands, but he was smiling.

"Come on, I need help making sure it fits."

"Oh, no, I'm not falling for that. I am far too old and wily for such simple tricks."

"Would you believe I don't know how to tie a Windsor?"

"Your phone has google."

Peter sighed dramatically. "It's not the same. WikiHow diagrams don't really go 3D."

Tony ended up helping him with the tie, standing chest to back with Peter. "You're eighteen. You know you can just ask for a hug now?"

Peter leaned back into Tony's arms. "I know." Peter smiled. "But this way feels like winning."

They went to a fancy restaurant with small plates and smaller servings. Afterward, they went to Burger King after all, where Tony ordered a Whopper and Peter got two and a large order of fries. Tony ended up giving Peter the second half of his burger.

"It's been a while, but I don't remember eating that much as a teenager."

"Ever since I got bitten by that spider, I've needed to eat a lot more." Peter gathered the empty wrappers and stuffed them in the empty paper bag they'd come in. "I figure it's about half all the, y'know, patrolling, but half of it's my metabolism now."

"I'll take you somewhere they'll actually feed you next time," Tony promised.

—

The words of his mark had changed when Peter came back. They said, "We're still waiting."

Peter didn't know whether that was a sign, if it was still true. Tony took him out on dates filled with small touches, shoulders brushing as they wandered Central Park, knees pressed together at a ball game, fingers linked together as they watched a movie. It was nice, but it never went further than a hug and Tony dropping a kiss on the crown of his head at the end of the evening.

He didn't know how he felt that the words on Tony's skin were now, "No promises."

Peter wanted to make promises. He wanted to be given them even more.

—

May had encouraged him to apply to a wide range of universities. Rhodey had hinted strongly that he thought Peter would like MIT. Tony hadn't given any direct input, because he'd been pretending that he wasn't deeply invested in Peter's life at that point, but Peter had felt his hand behind the pamphlet extolling their robotics program that had shown up in the mail.

Peter had chosen NYU. It was his life, and he didn't need to be a miniature Tony Stark. He was Tony's soulmate, but he was also his own person. He wanted to stay in his city, so he did.

"You know you can still transfer?" Tony asked him.

"I know," Peter said. He wasn't going to change his mind, but he wasn't interested in arguing about it, either.

—

Peter made it halfway through his first year before he crawled into Tony's bed one weekend. It was the end of the day, and soon enough Tony showed up, loosening his tie only to stop in the doorway.

"Are we still waiting?" Peter asked.

"However long you want," Tony said, but he closed the door behind him.

"I've always wanted now," Peter said.

Tony locked the door. He discarded his tie with the rest of his clothes on his bedroom floor, not bothering to hang any of it up.

They were done waiting.

—

"Can I see it?" Peter asked, and Tony gave his arm over for consideration.

It said, in Peter's handwriting, "No promises."

Peter kissed every letter.

"Can I—?" Tony asked and traced the words he'd left on Peter, first with his fingers, then his lips and tongue. After, he pressed their marks together, and it was good, so good.

—

Peter cuddled into Tony's chest, sleepy and sated and fiercely glad to finally have this. Tony petted at his hair.

"Worth the wait?" Tony asked quietly.

Peter pressed his smile against the scar tissue over Tony's heart. "You're worth any wait."

"Make me a promise?" Tony said.

"Anything," Peter said. Maybe he shouldn't have, because there were some promises he couldn't give.

"Don't make me outlive you again." Tony buried his face in Peter's hair. "I met you when you were fifteen and thought it was a guarantee I'd never have to lose you. I waited for you my entire life. I can't—I can't do that again. I can't have this and lose it."

Peter frowned. "Are you guilt-tripping me for dying? Because half the universe did that."

"No," Tony said. "I'm just—I just want you to be more careful."

"Are _you_ going to be more careful?"

Tony sighed. "You're right. That's not fair."

"I can't promise to outlive you." Peter traced the scars on Tony's chest with the tips of his fingers. "But I can promise I'll be _exactly_ as careful as you are."

"Are you blackmailing me right now? In my home, in my bed, having inveigled your way into my heart, and now sudden betrayal." Tony's voice was complaining, but his eyes were fond. He closed his arms around Peter. "I'll do my best."

Tony hadn't quite said it, but Peter said, "I love you, too."

Tony made a sound like he was wounded. "It's a good thing we waited, because I think you could destroy me, Peter Parker."

Peter pressed another kiss over Tony's heart. "If it's all the same, I'd rather keep you."

"Yeah." Tony stroked a hand down Peter's back. "You can keep me. The universe decided I was yours, twice over. I'm not going to argue."

—

Peter's first words were, "You're fifteen." His current were, "We're still waiting."

As far as Peter was concerned, they could've said anything at all. What mattered was that they belonged to Tony Stark. Peter did, too.

It went both ways.

**Author's Note:**

> Content advisories: Peter and Tony are soulmates, but they still meet when Peter's fifteen. Tony is not happy about this. It doesn't stop him from starting a relationship when Peter's eighteen. There is, of course, the usual age gap. IW happens and there is temporary character death. Some bits of canon-typical violence/injuries (or rather, canon happens anyway). Please ask if you have any questions or special concerns.
> 
> Also, stealth rec for LearnedFoot's fic Both Ways, which I read last night and which somehow had a line/theme creep in at the very end when I finished the fic this morning, and which I just realized as I returned to trying to write a comment and channel my enthusiastic glee into something besides helpless flailing: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18069959
> 
> I am not generally able to do underage for a variety of reasons, but if you are, it's very good! And if you generally cannot and have all the exact same landmines I do, it is perfectly landmine free. *both thumbs up*


End file.
